


Velma Dinkley and the Mystery of the Fat Teen Cocks

by RysMan



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Gangbang, Mildly Dubious Consent, Older Woman/Teen Boys, Older Woman/Younger Man, Sexual Coercion, Teen Boys, Underage Sex, teen delinquents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RysMan/pseuds/RysMan
Summary: Years after retiring from solving mysteries, bookstore owner Velma Dinkley is confronted with a new quandary: Why are the teenage hoodlums tagging her store so goddamn hung?
Relationships: Velma Dinkley/Original Character(s), Velma Dinkley/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	Velma Dinkley and the Mystery of the Fat Teen Cocks

“I’m truly sorry, Sir.  _ Hair-Raiser _ number three hundred and forty two doesn’t hit shelves until next spring.” 

The Dinkley’s Mystery Book Shoppe’s one and only customer gave a disappointed frown, his shoulders slumping as the eponymous Velma Dinkley gave him the bad news. 

“Darn. I thought it was supposed to come out this week.”

An older gentleman, his face was a criss-cross of wrinkles and lines which were only made more prominent by his expression of discontent. Mr. Hollis was a regular that Velma had come to know quite well and she also knew just how much of a fan he was of the  _ Hair-Raiser _ series. She had a solid idea of his displeasure and she herself shared some measure of his annoyance.

Velma let out a breath that was heavy with ire. She gave Mr. Hollis an apologetic shrug.

“The writer missed the deadline again I’m afraid.”

“That’s been happening a lot with this guy.” Mr. Hollis noted, his expression turning sour. “Really hope this Gerard R. R. Marvin guy gets his shit together. Pardon my french.”

“It’s no problem, Sir.” Velma chuckled softly, idly brushing some lint and dust from the hem of her orange sweater. Her wardrobe hadn’t changed much since her days with the Mystery Gang, though Velma had noted sometime recently that her sweaters seemed to have gotten smaller. Her pleated skirts, too. It had gotten to the point where she had to switch to jeans for the time being, lest she walk around while exposing scandalous amounts of her pale thighs. She had ordered a batch of new skirts online but they had yet to arrive, much like Marvin’s latest novel. “I understand your frustration. I can’t sell books in my bookstore if they’re not here, can I? Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Mr. Hollis gave a half-grin. “Nah. A delayed book won’t kill me. Besides, it’s getting late. I oughta get home. Streets are spooky at night, see?”

The older man gave a small wave and headed for the door. He exited and Velma watched him stroll down the sidewalk through her store’s display windows.

“Don’t I wish…” Velma Dinkley mumbled under her breath as Mr. Hollis passed out of sight. If the streets were spooky then they’d at least be interesting. Since retiring from solving mysteries, Velma found that “interesting” was short on supply.

Such was the life of a bookstore owner. 

Velma glanced at the grandfather clock standing in the far front corner of her shoppe. The time was seven thirty in the PM. Wednesday evening. 

The former sleuth bit her lip. It was still a half-hour from closing but she knew business was slow in the twilight hours, especially during weekdays. But… She never liked closing early. It went against her work ethic. Even with her small apartment located on the second floor right above her book shoppe, even with how easy it would be to simply call it a day…

Velma Dinkley hummed softly, tapping her chin. Maybe she could spend some time re-alphabetizing the non-fiction shelves? 

She grinned. 

Yes, that was it. Just find something to do. It was only thirty minutes until closing, after all.

* * *

It was seven fifty-two in the PM when Velma heard a loud crash coming from the back alley that ran behind her store. The sound had startled her enough that she had dropped the stack of books she had been carrying, scattering eight volumes of  _ Unsolved Heists & Robberies _ . 

“What in the world…?” She muttered quietly, carefully stepping over the mess she made and making her way towards the back door. She inched closer to the rear exit, only to jump slightly as she heard the clear sound of someone - or something - rustling amongst the trash cans that she knew lined the back alley. “Better not be rodents again…”

Velma didn’t feel afraid, not really. Years of going up against all manners of crazed criminals and nutjobs had hardened her nerves considerably. But she did feel somewhat anxious. It was a good thing Velma  _ liked _ feeling anxious.

Grabbing a flashlight from the tall, thin locker in the narrow back room, Velma couldn’t help but grin. The intruder making a ruckus behind her story was in all likelihood a raccoon or a squirrel but Velma’s rational side couldn’t completely discount the more exciting possibilities. The possibilities that promised  _ mystery _ .

Flashlight in hand, Velma crept out the back door and into the alleyway. She heard voices, unmistakable male. Young, definitely, but very much male.

“Dude, we can’t be so loud.” Said one intruder.

“Relax, bro. All the stores around here close super early. We’ll be fine.” Replied another.

Velma smirked. He was mostly correct. All the other store owners had closed up shop for the day and went home. But not one Velma Dinkley.

Her heart was pumping with the excitement that came with getting the drop on a possible burglar. She whirled to the left, shining a bright beam of light down the narrow path between buildings. 

What she found… were the pale faces of three young men. No, on closer inspection they were not men at all but boys.  _ Teen _ boys to be specific. Velma had to guess that the oldest looking one was fourteen at most.

“And just who exactly is making such a ruckus behind my book store?” She questioned the intruders with a very loud and very firm voice. Velma was greeted with wide eyes and stunned silence. 

The brunette’s smile spread across her pretty face. She couldn’t help it. Even something as small as catching some young hoodlums in the act of… whatever they were doing, it reminded Velma of the mysteries she solved with her friends, Shaggy, Daphne, Fred…

One of the teen boys, one with black hair and glasses, elbowed the tallest and oldest looking one, who had short blond hair.

“ _ ‘All the stores are closed’ _ , huh?” Said the raven-haired boy.

“Shut it.” The blond kid snapped. He turned his eyes back on Velma. “Sorry, Miss. We’ll keep it down.”

Velma crossed her arms, smirking. She had _ so _ caught them red-handed. “Right. You boys still haven’t told me what you’re doing back here.”

“Nothing.” The boy with glasses said quickly. The third boy, one with light brown hair and freckles, nodded in agreement. The blond on the other hand seemed to be holding back some choice words.

Velma took a quick look to the brick wall that made up the back of her building and saw the unmistakable markings of spray paint. 

_ Graffiti artists. Three very young graffiti artists. A few steps down from men in monster masks, but I’ll take it. _

Velma put on a serious face, doing her best to mask the excitement she was feeling, and sauntered towards the wall where the boys’ handiwork besmirched her property. She took a long, pointed look at the still-wet spray paint, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Velma said, putting on an act of stern disappointment. “In fact… It looks a lot like vandalism.”

“It’s not vandalism. It’s artistic expression.” Said the boy with freckles. He quickly fell silent after Velma heard the unmistakable sound of elbow-striking-ribcage. The former mystery solver stifled a small smile as she next heard the blond kid quietly hiss a curse at his two friends.

Velma was going to let the kids go. Probably. But they didn’t need to know that yet. She’d put the fear of God in them first. Or rather, the fear of being taken down to the police station and having their parents called down to pick them up. The fear of being grounded, the fear of no play-box or x-station or whatever teen boys were into these days. Maybe it was a little cruel, but Velma knew the experience would be good for them. Heck, maybe this night would put these little hoodlums on the path to becoming strapping, responsible young men.

“Oh no, you three troublemakers are not tagging my store!” Velma had adopted a shrill voice, evoking the dreaded “Karen” that the internet so fearfully spoke of. Her tone was of outrage and mirrored that of the eternally-offended soccer mom. It was all for show, but damn if it wasn’t fun. 

“Not tagging. It’s artistic-”

“Irreverent, disrespectful…” She cut the boy with glasses off, turning towards the three young teens with fire in her eyes. She wagged her finger at them, advancing on them like an angry aunt. “Completely unacceptable behavior of today’s youth. I blame video games. You three boys are coming with me-  _ whoop! _ ”

Velma had gotten so into her role that she had forgotten just where she was: the messy alley behind her store. As such, there was trash strewn about, lying all over the ground. More than enough for a woman as clumsy as Velma Dinkley to trip over. In hindsight, Velma really should have known better.

Maybe it was an empty beer bottle. Maybe it was a spray can discarded by one of the boys. Either way, Velma ended up in a heap on the ground. And to make matters worse, she had felt her glasses fly off her face. 

It was such a Velma move, the woman in question thought bitterly.

* * *

“Oh shit, you alright lady?” Kyle asked, taking a step towards the shop owner sprawled on the ground. He stopped when she began swiping her hands out in front of her, feeling the pavement for something.

“My glasses!” She explained, squinting her eyes in a vain attempt to see better. “Can’t see without my glasses. Help? Please?”

Kyle paused for a moment as did his two partners in crime - er, vandalism? Artistic expression?

“Dude…” Tommy murmured as the three of them took in the sight of the woman on the ground in front of them. A moment ago, she was nothing more than the physical manifestation of their monumentally bad luck. She was going to call the cops, call their parents, call their fucking school principal. She was their worst nightmare. But that was then. Now, on the other hand….

Now, she was a nerdy chick with crazy curves stuffed into tight jeans and an even tighter sweater. And with her glasses removed from her possession, she was completely at their mercy.

“Woah… Bookstore owner is kind of a babe.” Sam nudged Kyle with his elbow. 

“She’s not just any bookstore owner, Sam.” Kyle told his bespectacled friend, smirking as he finally recognized the woman on the ground. “Do you know who that is? That’s Velma Dinkley! From Mystery Incorporated! They were those teenagers who rode around in that van, solving mysteries and shit!”

“Those hippie geeks with the dog?”

“Yeah!”

“A little help, please?” The nerdy chick asked quietly, all confidence from before having evaporated. “I’m serious. I can’t see without my glasses.” 

Sam tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at the lady before them. “Oh. Now I recognize her. She got hot.”

“Seriously, right?” Kyle said, smiling.

“We should probably help her out…” Tommy cut in, frowning.

“We will. No reason we can’t have a little fun before then.” Kyle’s smile twisted into a devilish smirk. He began undoing his fly, fishing his cock out from his boxers. He let the long, thick shaft swing down between his legs. As the blond teen advanced towards the unsuspecting Miss Dinkley, he gave a wink towards his friends. 

Sam nodded in devious agreement, while Tommy looked less impressed.

“She’s not going to go for it, dude.” Tommy warned.

“If we could get Ms. Merryweather from Algebra to go for it, we can get this chick with no problem. Geekette like her has probably never seen a dick this size, either.” Kyle bragged, plucking a pair of glasses from the ground a mere six inches out of the reach of Velma’s frantic hands.

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t go for it.” Tommy muttered to Sam.

“Ten bucks says we all get our dicks wet tonight.” Sam muttered back. A small smile crossed his young face as he fondly remembered him and his two friends coaxing B minuses out of Ms. Merryweather for their midterm grades last month. He never would have guessed the prim and proper teacher was so skilled at taking dick.

* * *

“You want your glasses back? You just gotta trade for ‘em.”

At the time, Velma thought the little punk was just going to coerce her into letting them go without a fuss. She had never planned on ratting on the boys in the first place, but they hadn’t known that. She thought she was dealing with a trio of troublemakers who were trying to get out of being grounded. So she rolled her eyes and humored the kid, unknowing of what the little devil truly had planned for her….

“Trade.” She repeated, giving the blurry shape before her a sour look. “Look kid, I’m really not in the mood to play games.”

“I’m not playing nothing. You want your glasses? I want something, too.”

There was something in the kids voice that Velma had picked up on but couldn’t quite place. It sent the faintest of shivers down her spine, so faint she had chalked it up the cool evening breeze. It wouldn’t be until hours later that Velma decided that she should have trusted her instincts.

“...Like what?” She asked tentatively, what little fiery confidence she had left quickly flickering into nothingness. 

“A kiss.” The kid all but demanded.

“Get real.” Velma snorted.

“I’m as real as it gets, babe.” The line almost had the stacked shopkeep rolling her eyes again until she realized the kid was dead serious.

Feeling her cheeks grow hot from embarrassment - or perhaps something else - Velma shook her head.

“I can’t kiss you.” She told him, sounding nowhere near as firm as she would have liked. “You’re too young. I’m an adult. I… I could get into trouble…”

“No one’s around except you, me, and my boys. You want your glasses? Then gimme a kiss.”

Suddenly something large and warm was thrust against her face, somehow solid and soft at the same time, pressing itself against one cheek before being drawn across her nose to the other cheek. An instant later, the smell hit Velma like a truck. A heavy, earthy aroma of skin, sweat, and… something else. Despite the rumors, Velma Dinkley was neither a prude nor a lesbian. She knew exactly what had slapped her in the face. It simply took a moment for realization to set in.

She batted the boy’s dick away with one hand, recoiling in shock - and trying her damned hardest not to think about how large and thick it felt against her face. 

“Gross!  _ Fuck! _ What- You said you wanted a kiss!” She had to keep herself from shrieking. 

“I  _ do _ want a kiss. I just wasn’t specific as to where.” The boy’s smug little smile was crystal clear in Velma’s mind, even if she couldn’t well see it.

“That’s… You can’t expect me to…”

Then the kid’s fingers were running through her short brown hair. She made no move to stop him as he got himself a nice hold on her head and drew her towards him, pressing her face to his groin. Her hands came up slightly in reflex but Velma quickly found she simply didn’t have the fight in her to stop him - maybe she didn’t even  _ want _ to fight him. The scent of the kid’s fat prick was filling her nostrils once more. The feeling of his warm shaft being pressed flush against her cheeks.

_ Oh, God… _

Velma Dinkley pursed her lips, caressing the swollen head in the softest, faintest of kisses. Her tongue came forward of its own accord, like a natural response to what was being done to her. Her lips parted slightly, just enough for the tip of her tongue to lash against the skin of the boy’s shaft. Her tongue tingled and she couldn’t help but give a pleased little hum as the taste began to settle in her mouth.

“You smell that, lady?” The little punk asked her. With his hand keeping her face buried in his cock and balls, it was obvious he didn’t really expect an answer. “That’s pure, thick, teen dick. Nice and fat and juicy ain’t it? I know older bitches like you can’t get enough. Just last week I had my algebra teacher choking on this bastard. Miss Merryweather loved sucking on these balls. How about you?”

His balls did taste good, Velma had to agree. In the time the kid spent monologuing, the former sleuth had succumbed to the sensory overload that was having her face smushed into his crotch. Drawing her tongue across his young nutsack, she savored the delectable, salty flavor of his big, swollen balls. After a moment of sucking, Velma found the willpower to slurp away and rest her chin on his thigh. She stared up at him, eyes glazed over. Logical, sensible Velma Dinkley had finally checked out. Horny, thirsty, Vivacious Velma was in. 

“Holy shit…  _ Jinkies _ …”

She felt something brush against the sides of her head and suddenly her vision was clear again. The kid had taken the moment to put her glasses back on her face. The blond ringleader was smirking down at her, his thumb softly caressing her rosy red cheek.

“Look how hard I am. You stacked nerdy chicks don’t know what you do to guys like me. Maybe you can lend a helping hand with this serious problem.”

“Yeah… Help…” Velma sighed, a weak smile spreading across her flushed face. She gave the kid’s hefty shaft a soft peck with her lips, stroking it gently with both hands. It was heavy and large, so large she couldn’t even get her fingers around the thickest part. It was obscene for a boy his age to have a cock that big. And yet Velma couldn’t help but adore the damned thing. “You three boys want to come inside? My apartment upstairs is better than a dank alleyway.”

The blond’s smirk grew into the devil’s own smile. He turned to look over at his two buddies who had been watching the lewd events unfold. Velma saw the kid with freckles hand the kid with glasses a ten dollar bill.

“What do you say boys?”

* * *

“How -  _ uh _ \- how old did you boys say you were again?”

Velma bit down on her lip to keep herself from squealing, her body lurching forward as the young man behind her rammed his cock deep into her sopping wet pussy. His waist collided with the wide swell of her ass, filling the air of her bedroom with a resounding  _ slap _ . 

“Fuck, that’s good…” She heard the blond kid, Kyle, growl. She felt his hands tighten their grip on her hips as he slowly rolled his hips, trying to force his prick just a little deeper into her cunt. Velma couldn’t stop a throaty moan from pouring out of her mouth. None of the boys she invited up to her apartment had any right to have cocks that big. 

And yet another long, meaty shaft was soon brought before her flushed face. This one belonged to the kid with the glasses, Sam. Velma looked up at him as he positioned himself on her bed, standing up on his knees so that his throbbing cock was leveled right at her open lips. He smirked down at her, with all the smug satisfaction a nice, big cock could produce in a young man. 

“Kyle’s Fourteen. So’s Tommy.” Sam gave her a toothy grin, a fire burning in his eyes. “Me? I’m thirteen. Impressive, huh?”

Sam grabbed his manhood by the base and swung it towards Velma’s face, the swollen head thudding against her left cheek like a meaty club. The shopkeep moaned again, both at the subtle degradation and the fact that Kyle began to work himself in and out of her tight sex. He started slow then gradually began to pick up speed. 

It was in no time at all that Kyle was really fucking her, driving his virile teen cock deep into her wet cunt with every thrust. It was driving her mad, sending jolts of ecstasy shooting through her nerves. When Sam prodded her lips with his dick, she gave no resistance. Then her mouth was filled with teen cock, same as her pussy. The sensation of being stuffed to the brim, the taste of a young man on her tongue, it was short-circuiting her poor brain. It had been too long since Velma Dinkley had herself some decent dick. It just didn’t matter to her that these kids were half her age. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could make out the hazy shape of the third boy of the trio, Tommy. He had opted to sit the first round out - or maybe it was because he lost a bet? Either way, his turn would have to wait. At least she would be able to give him a hell of a show.

Velma felt Sam rake his hands through her hair. As he got himself a decent grip on her head, she mentally braced herself for what he was about to do. Sure enough, he began to fuck her face. 

“ _ GLRK GLRK GLRK GLRK GLRK GLRK _ ”

Hefty teen balls slapped against her chin. Spittle, saliva, and precum dribbled from her lips. Her hips and ass wibbled and wobbled as Kyle’s waist collided with her womanly curves. Every nerve in her body was on fire. Every synapse in her brain was firing as she processed her descent into being a fucktoy for horny teen boys. 

And Velma Dinkley  _ loved _ it.

_ What the hell are they feeding kids these days? _

That was a question Velma would have asked under normal circumstances. It  _ was _ a mystery if one took the time to think about it. 

But as she was kneeling there on her bed, sandwiched between two hung studs, Velma found that she didn’t really care. 

As one hot load of cum filled her tight pussy while another flooded her poor, abused throat, Velma Dinkley decided that the Mystery of the Fat Teen Cocks didn’t really need to be solved.


End file.
